GO ASK ALICE: Killing time on the road

“Dead fox,” my husband announced as we sped passed a deceased critter on the side of the highway during a recent road trip.

“It’s a little too big to be a fox,” I offered from behind the wheel.

“It’s a little too red to be a coyote,” he shot back from the passenger seat.

In the backseat, my son had his iPod cranked and ear buds in, but still heard enough of the discussion to catch his attention.

“A dead what?” he asked, holding his left ear bud in his hand.

“Fox or coyote,” I told him. “We’re not sure.”

“Hey, that could be a new road trip game,” my son suggested. (It could replace the license plate game, which in recent years has lost its luster.)

“Dead fox,” my husband announced as we sped passed a deceased critter on the side of the highway during a recent road trip.

“It’s a little too big to be a fox,” I offered from behind the wheel.

“It’s a little too red to be a coyote,” he shot back from the passenger seat.

In the backseat, my son had his iPod cranked and ear buds in, but still heard enough of the discussion to catch his attention.

“A dead what?” he asked, holding his left ear bud in his hand.

“Fox or coyote,” I told him. “We’re not sure.”

“Hey, that could be a new road trip game,” my son suggested. (It could replace the license plate game, which in recent years has lost its luster.)

The idea, he explained, is to yell out “Fox or Coyote!” as you pass a dead animal on or alongside the highway, and then race to correctly identify the roadkill as you drive by it at 70 mph.

It sounded a little sick and twisted, I thought, but he is a 14-year-old boy, so that goes with the territory.

Of course there would be no way to verify you had indeed correctly identified the critter corpse – there would be no pulling over or turning back to examine the remains. And at high speeds there is really no accurate way to distinguish a gopher from a mole or a woodchuck. (Come to think of it, I can’t tell those varmints apart while standing still.)

There is no mistaking a dead skunk; with its signature white stripe down the back, its pungent aroma and chic beret (think Pepe Le Pew)!

With his trademark bandit mask and ring stripe tail you can pick out the late Rocky Raccoon from a quarter-mile away.

And then there are the many dead deer we see along the highway in our 350-mile trip to Pennsylvania. They are such graceful, lovely animals, if only they would just stay in the thicket with Bambi instead of trying to cross the road!

Wild turkeys are neither graceful nor lovely and are often attempting to traverse the travel lane unsuccessfully, leaving us to ask “why did the turkey cross the road?”

Investigation into the death would show no signs of fowl play, but ample signs of stupidity. Turkeys can fly so why, I wonder, do they willingly walk into traffic?

And was that possum we passed 10 miles back really dead, or was it just “playing possum?”

“Montana!”

My musing is interrupted by the discovery of a rarely seen license plate. But it is a find I enjoy alone. My husband has fallen asleep and my son is rapt and rapping with Eminem.

Just like that, “Fox or Coyote” is retired before we have cleared Connecticut, and it’s clear to me there are better ways to kill time on the road.

Alice Coyle is the managing editor of GateHouse Media New England’s Raynham, Mass. office. You can reach her at acoyle@wickedlocal.com or follow her on Twitter @accoyleWL.